Spiritual awakening isn’t always a burst of bliss or clarity. Sometimes, it begins with collapse.
Yes, there are moments of touching the divine—an expanded sense of self, a glimpse of truth, a feeling of deep connection. But what often follows isn’t purpose or power. It’s emptiness. A sense of being unmoored. Flat. Lost.
For many, this phase is marked not by revelation, but by fatigue. A deep tiredness that no sleep can fix. A loss of motivation or drive. A feeling that your edge, the fire that once fueled you, is gone. There’s a calling to be in nature, to slow down, to do as little as possible. And beneath it, a quiet fear: what if this state never ends?
I’ve felt this many times. After a divorce. After leaving a job that no longer fit. After big initiations and life-altering psychedelic journeys. Each time, I entered a stretch of uncertainty—sometimes short, sometimes lasting months—where everything I once relied on seemed to dissolve.
Who am I now?
What am I really here to serve?
What needs to be grieved, released, reimagined?
These weren’t detours. They were initiations. Invitations to let go of who I thought I was—so I could remember who I was beyond the conditioning.
And each time, I saw more clearly: awakening isn’t linear. It’s not a ladder to climb. It’s a spiral of dying and becoming. Of forgetting and remembering. Of shedding what’s false so something real can root.
This article is for anyone in that in-between space right now—the hollow stretch after the insight, before the clarity returns. When your drive is gone. When the old no longer fits, and the new hasn’t fully arrived.
This isn’t failure.
This is the chrysalis of transformation.
Let’s dive in.
When we experience a spiritual awakening—through a psychedelic journey, a life crisis, or a spontaneous moment of grace—something shifts. We glimpse a deeper truth, a higher self, a more authentic way of being. But that moment doesn’t always translate into immediate clarity or action.
In fact, what often follows is collapse.
The old identity—driven, productive, externally successful—no longer fits. But the new one hasn’t fully formed. You’re between stories. Between selves. And in that liminal space, motivation often disappears.
Not because you’ve failed.
But because your inner world is reorganising.
The values that used to drive you—achievement, approval, productivity—lose their charge. The goals you once chased feel hollow. Your nervous system may be tired from years of survival mode. Your soul may be asking for stillness before the next becoming.
This collapse is not depression (though all the “symptoms” are there). It’s not laziness or weakness. It’s the necessary process for dismantling an identity that’s become too small.
And it takes time.
Real transformation isn’t about pushing through—it’s about allowing the disintegration, trusting the pause, and listening to what’s being born in the stillness.
If your old motivation has disappeared, it’s easy to panic. You may feel like you’ve lost your edge, your fire, or your capacity to get things done. But what’s really happening is deeper than burnout or fatigue.
Your system is being rewired.
This is especially true for high performers, leaders, and entrepreneurs who have spent years pushing, producing, and performing. Your nervous system has likely been in a prolonged state of activation—running on stress, speed, or survival. When awakening comes, the body often says: “Enough.”
The drive that once powered you starts to fade—not because you’re broken, but because your inner compass is being recalibrated.
You’re learning to act from alignment, not adrenaline.
From inspiration, not pressure.
From truth, not trauma.
And that takes time.
This is the cocoon stage of transformation—the part nobody talks about. You’re no longer a caterpillar, but you’re not yet a butterfly. Inside, the old structures dissolve. What emerges isn’t just a more efficient version of who you were—but a truer version of who you are.
If you feel disoriented, unmotivated, or lost right now… good. That’s the sign something real is happening.
You’re not failing.
You’re healing.
You’re being rewired for the life you were actually meant to live.
Spiritual awakening isn’t always graceful or uplifting. More often, it feels like disorientation, loss, or a sense of falling apart. Something is shifting, but you can’t quite name what. Beneath the confusion, something new is forming, quietly but powerfully, asking for your trust.
Here are some signs you might be going through spiritual awakening:
If this is where you are, know this: you are not broken. You are shedding what is false. You are preparing for something truer to take root.
The mind will want to know and understand, but the soul moves in spirals.
Keep listening. Keep surrendering. Keep showing up.
I’ve experienced the chrysalis of transformation more than once.
The first time came after my divorce in 2019. My whole world cracked open. For three months, I couldn’t force myself to keep going like before. The ambition, the goals, the sense of direction—gone. In its place: a deep tiredness, grief, and a call to go within that I couldn’t escape or override.
A year later, it happened again—this time after I left a job that no longer aligned with my soul. I had to let go of the false safety of structure and step into the unknown. I entered another void for three months. There was no motivation, no fire. I felt like I had lost my edge, and with it, the drive that had always defined me.
High performance was part of my identity. I had trained as an elite athlete, competing on the Danish national kickboxing team. I became a five-time Danish champion and three-time Nordic champion. Pushing hard, aiming high, and achieving results had shaped how I moved through the world. It was what fulfilled me.
So when this wave of collapse came, it asked something radical of me: to let go of that identity. To stop doing. To stop pushing. To sit in the unknown. To trust that something more soulful—something more real—was waiting to emerge.
The third wave lasted six months. A full winter of the soul. And in between those big ones, smaller cycles—two weeks here, a month there. Each time, the pattern was the same: the old fell away, the new hadn’t fully arrived, and I had to sit in the in-between.
But I’ve come to trust those seasons. They were not breakdowns, but initiations. The crucibles where my soul reshaped who I thought I was. Not by force, but by stillness. By slowness. By surrender.
Each descent taught me something essential:
These cycles helped me realign with my power, my deeper purpose, and my role as a grounded, present co-creator. Not by figuring it all out, but by being with the mystery long enough for a new truth to take root.
Most of us want to rush through the in-between. We crave certainty, productivity,and forward motion. But soul doesn’t work on deadlines.
The in-between is not a mistake—it’s a sacred pause. A time when your old identity is dissolving, and the new one hasn’t fully arrived. It’s tender, raw, and often uncomfortable. But it’s where the real transformation happens.
Like the caterpillar spinning its cocoon, you’re being asked to surrender—to let go of who you’ve been, without knowing what you’ll become. Inside that cocoon, the caterpillar disintegrates completely. It has no idea it will grow wings. It trusts that this is not end.
This phase invites the same of you: a surrender to the unknown, to the greater intelligence of life, knowing that something new is forming. Even if you can’t see it yet.
Here’s what I’ve learned about being in that space:
The in-between isn’t where you lose your way. It’s where you shed what’s no longer yours so you can remember the truth that was always there.
What feels like a breakdown is often the beginning of something profound.
When your old identity dissolves and the map disappears, it’s not a failure. It’s an invitation. A rite of passage. A call to soul.
I’ve walked this path many times. After my divorce. After leaving work that wasn’t aligned. After outgrowing old identities that no longer fit. Each time, it felt like something inside me was dying—and in a way, it was. But what emerged was always more honest, more alive, more whole.
If you’re in it now, I want to say this clearly:
You’re not broken. You’re becoming.
Stay with yourself. Surround yourself with people who can meet you where you are. Let go of the pressure to rush. Let the old fall away. And trust—deeply—that something more authentic is trying to find you.
This isn’t the end of your story.
It’s the beginning of living your truth.
If you’re moving through a season of emotional unravelling, spiritual awakening, or identity loss, it doesn’t mean something’s wrong. It means something deeper is coming alive.
But you don’t have to navigate this alone.
Here are a few ways to receive grounded, compassionate support:
🔹 1:1 Integration & Coaching Support
Whether you’re coming out of a psychedelic journey or in the midst of a spiritual awakening, I offer personalised sessions to help you make sense of what’s unfolding, rebuild your inner foundation, and reconnect with your deeper truth.
→ Learn how my integration coaching can support you here.
🔹 Book a Free Clarity Call
If you’re not sure what you need but feel called to speak, I offer free 20-minute discovery calls. No pressure. Just a space to meet where you are.
🔹 Explore More Resources
Want to keep reading? Here are a few next articles to support your process:
→ What Is Integration (And Why It’s More Important Than the Journey)
→ The Emotional Rollercoaster After Psychedelics (And How to Ride It Well)
→ 12 Integration Practices for Leaders and Entrepreneurs
This phase won’t last forever. But how you meet it determines how long it will last.
You know that you can’t go back to who you were.
You’re here to become more fully who you are.
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